


Good Mood

by bloominsummer



Series: The World for You [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer Arc, Declarations Of Love, Light Angst, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: “You love me, don’t you?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters, they belong to the creators of Queer as Folk. This fic is based on a prompt I saw on [tumblr.](http://kilgravesjessica.tumblr.com/tagged/mysentencememe)

Justin is in a good mood. Why wouldn’t he be? He woke up cocooned in an embrace, felt the familiar warmth engulfing him and opened his eyes to see Brian’s face in tranquility, bare chest moving up and down accompanying his uneven breathing. Damn that stupid deviated septum, Justin thought.

Then again, his mind came across the one reason why he wouldn’t be in a good mood: that stupid septum is the least of his worries now. Sure, Brian had grudgingly agreed to eat some fucking chicken soup, but Justin isn’t sure how long will the walls be down for. Fuck cancer. Fuck fate, destiny, or whatever all-powered being there is that chose for Brian to have cancer because shit, Justin just simply can’t have that.

Justin absentmindedly caresses Brian’s face, trailing his features, before deciding that maybe some more homemade cuisine is a nice thing for Brian to wake up to, so he makes his way to the kitchen quietly.

His plans to give Brian a breakfast in bed is ultimately put to an end when the hardwood creaks not soon after. Brian’s awake. He’s taking in his surrounding and will be up and complaining about everything and anything in no time. Same old, same old.

“Justin?” there’s disappointment in the question and Justin dares to hope it’s because his face wasn’t the first thing Brian saw when he woke up.

“Yeah, in the kitchen. Omelette good? Bad?” he beats the egg and turns on the stove as he waits for the grunt reply. 

There was none. 

Instead, Brian emerges from behind the panels, dragging the duvet with him like a fortress. His hair was sticking out in every direction and Justin knows that if he crosses over to run his hands through the stubborn strands, breakfast would be abandoned, forgotten.

So he resists. Instead, he offers a reassuring smile. Well, at least he hopes it is reassuring, although he’s not sure what Brian thinks of it. He’s not sure what Brian thinks of anything, at all. He waits and waits and waits for Brian’s trademark smirk to make an appearance, but it doesn’t. Brian just flops down across the counter, hands still clutching the duvet.

Okay, he thought. If Brian needed silence, then he’ll get it. He turns to add some salt to the omelette and make a fresh batch of coffee. Justin busies himself, and Brian kept silent.

“Alright, dig in.” he puts the plate on the counter, in front of Brian. Presenting him not just the eggs but also his heart, his everything, him. Offering. Brian stares, at the plate, then at Justin, then back at the plate.

“Brian?” he inquires.

“You don’t have to stay.”

Shit. Alert all citizens: the Berlin walls are back up.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, then I’ll leave. After you eat your breakfast.” Justin’s not fighting it this time, he’s going to play Brian and go along with his games.

“I didn’t say, ‘I want you to leave.’ I said, ‘You don’t have to stay.’ There is a difference, you know.”

“Bri-“

Brian cuts him. “I just mean, taking care of a cancer patient, survivor, whatever the fuck it is now, is probably not on your bucket list. It’s hardly a pretty picture. So. You don’t have to stay.”

“Fuck you.” Justin says it without any malice, but it shocks Brian all the same. 

“What?” 

“Oh, you heard me. Fuck you. Stop feeling sorry for your ass too much. Self-pity is unattractive, you told me as much yourself. I told you I love you and I want to help you. Now you’re saying that I don’t have to stay? What is this? Are you accusing me of lying to you? Not meaning what I said?”

“I’ll be violently ill during the bad days.” Brian starts.

“Big fucking deal.”

“I’ll puke everywhere, probably will any moment now from the fucking chicken soup last night.”

“So I’ll clean it while you throw a fit because you puke in your precious loft, on the very expensive furniture and appliances. What else?"

“I’ll treat you like shit because I feel like shit.” Justin can only roll his eyes at this. Seriously?

“Okay, when are we getting to the part that will make me drop everything and run as fast as I could? It’s not like you haven’t done that to me in the many years we’ve known each other. I’m still here.”

“I’ll be too tired most of the time to even give you any action.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. Maybe I do have to go. Truth is, I was only in this arrangement for your ass.” he deadpans. But his face betrays him and he was smiling before he can stop it and Brian can’t help but join him. It's all the sign that Justin needs, so he tries again.

“Listen to me, Brian. Are you listening?”

He gets a nod, and takes it as a yes.

“I’m in it. I’m already in it. So, stop talking to me like I have one foot out the door and ready to bolt at anytime, okay? Just don’t.  Because I can’t anymore. Your business is my business, whether you want it or not. And just talk to me, for fucks sake. You work in advertising and deal with words everyday except when I need you to use them. Sometimes the only way I understand is that if you tell me. And never, ever, think that I would leave you again. That hurt more than you actually kicking me out. You’re it, Brian. So just.. let me help you.”

He gets another nod, and calls it a win.

“Now eat that omelette before it gets cold. Coffee?” 

Justin goes to get him some coffee, and as he settles the cup near Brian, his hands moves to cover Justin’s wrist.

“This taste so fucking good, you can always be a chef if those paintings don’t sell.” Brian says it with such fervour that he wants to drop painting and try the culinary world.

“Great to know what confidence you have in me. Besides, I might keep you for you ass but don’t say you’re not using me for my cooking. You love me, don’t you?"

A joke. A passing joke, is what it was meant to be. But Brian Kinney, of course, simply does not play fair.

“Yeah. I love you.”

Brian says it like he’s trying it out, testing the waters, wanting to see how the words sound out of his mouth.

Justin was resting his elbows on the counter before that, propping his head. Brian’s sudden revelation gets his elbows to slip and almost bang his head on the counter. He’s lucky that Brian is fast enough that he catches his hand and hold him steady, otherwise it would be his second case of amnesia in less than 3 years.

Justin straightens himself up while holding on to the counter for support, Brian’s grip loosening around his wrist. They both look at each other and as Brian waits for Justin to reply, he really wishes he knows how to. The wait is long, and Brian is getting more and more agitated by the second, so he caves in.

“You okay?”

“Ugh.” 

God, Justin struggles to be eloquent but, who ever says you get butterflies in your stomach was a fucking liar because he is getting elephants, rhinos and hippopotamus in there. He fights for words, but Brian beats him to it, again.

“..is that a no? Yes? What?”

“Ugh.”

“Okay. Forget I said anything.” Brian’s getting up, and Justin knows he’s going to retreat gracefully to his safe haven of pretences and never come back out. Justin can’t have that, either.

He grabs Brian’s hand and motions him to sit back down.

“Forget? I want to get my video camera and have you say that again so that I can have proof that you, Brian Kinney, actually said what you did to me, Justin Taylor, while looking adorable covered in our duvet, and that my world-class cooking had brought it up. Shit, had I known all you needed was an omelette, I would have made you one a long time ago! But also, fuck. I wasn’t expecting it. I was never going to expect that. I mean.. fuck. You amaze me. You do.”

“Well, you’ll never hear it again if you’re going to be such a twat about it. And it’s my duvet, since I purchased it with my money.”

“I’ll live, because you just said you love me. Shit, you really did just say that. Also, yeah right, I’m the one who clean and do laundry, including the duvet, around here. It’s ours, we’re domestic, deal with it.” he replies smugly, lightheaded from euphoria.

“Twat.”

Justin crosses over the counter and Brian pulls the duvet back, allows him entrance to the fortress. 

“Say it again.” he nuzzles Brian’s neck as he says this. He feels Brian’s pulse and thank the fate, destiny, whatever the fuck it is that he can feel it, that it’s there, that Brian’s here.

“Cook me some more of this and maybe I will.”

“Say it again, and maybe I will.”

Brian says it clearer this time.

“I love you.”

“And here I thought I’d die never hearing you say it.”

“Yeah, well. I almost did die. Fuck. They cut me open and take parts of me out. I realised I might not have the chance to say it to you in the stupid OR, on that stupid table with that stupid light blinding my sight. I would have regretted not saying it. So fuck it. I’ll say it whenever I want to now. No apologies, no regrets.”

Justin’s heart makes an impressive backflip right then, as he registers what Brian is saying. Brian is telling the truth and it’s painful and shocking, knowing that Brian was in that kind of pain, realising he has just poured his feelings out. A risk taken, according to the Kinney Operating Manual. Brian’s giving Justin his heart on a silver platter for a change and he is free to do what he wants with it.

“I love you, Brian.” is what he chooses to do.

“Yeah, I think I know that by now.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘I love you back, Justin, my sweet baby.’”

“Don’t push your luck, asshole.” Brian snarks.

Justin lets it slide because he is still bouncing with joy. Brian leans in to kiss him then; softly, reverently, and just enough. Justin knows it was a declaration now, and he’ll also know it later, when Brian whispers it to his ears and hair in their bed.

Justin is in a good mood.


End file.
